


Christmas Coincidence

by FreyaOdin



Series: Synchronicity [1]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, M/M, One Night Stands, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: Mitch is home for the holidays and takes a (much needed) break from the family festivities.





	

Mitch wakes slowly. He can feel the sun streaming in through the window, warming the bed and his skin. The hotel blankets are comfortably tucked up around him. His head…kinda hurts actually, but not as badly as he probably deserves.

***

_He’s at Station 4, his favorite club when he’s home, on the one night of his visit that he’s free from family obligations. There’s a hilarious Christmas-themed drag show followed by some great music and somewhere along the way he downs several gin and tonics. And maybe some vodka shots? There’s definitely some champagne involved at one point but he’s smart enough to avoid the egg nog special. Then he’s dancing with the old high school friends who’d invited him out in the first place, until they inevitably start making out on the dance floor—some things never change—and Mitch is forced to move along elsewhere so it’s not awkward as fuck. The DJ is fantastic though, as is the red and green light show, and Mitch has had just enough booze to have exactly zero problem dancing by himself. Not that he’s alone for long; he’s never had trouble attracting a partner when he wants one._

_There are several options vying for his attention but it’s not much of a competition; as soon as he sees the tall blond eying him, he loses interest in the others. The blond isn’t the best dancer out there; he has a good sense of rhythm but not much else going for him on the solo dancing front. However, the look in his eyes as he checks Mitch out, the curved bow of his lips when he smiles, the perfect wave of his undercut, the sharpness of his jaw and the width of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the line of his ass in those tight jeans, the roll of his hips as he dances, and the way he waits for Mitch’s nod before pulling them together and turning their dance into a deep grind…fuck yes, Daddy. Come do all the things._

_Mitch leans back into him, enjoying the feel of those big hands on his body, at first just guiding his hips into a shared rhythm but eventually becoming braver and roaming, exploring his chest, tweaking his nipple and then teasing down his stomach and tugging at his thighs, pulling him closer. Mitch raises an arm up behind him and pulls that tall head down, groaning encouragement when the move earns him those curved lips nibbling down his neck and collarbone. He leaves his other arm dangling, happy to let his unexpectedly attractive dance partner control their movements and just enjoy the sensations he’s invoking. And fuck, he’s invoking a lot of them._

***

Mitch smiles to himself, still not fully awake; the memory is a good one and completely makes up for his slightly pounding head. He feels great otherwise, relaxed and lighthearted and warm. The higher-end room he shelled out for when his parents asked if he wouldn’t mind giving up his old bedroom to his niece and nephew is more than worth it. He stretches slowly, first his arms over his head, which feels absolutely fantastic and then letting the stretch flow down his body. A telltale ache in his ass soon makes itself known, along with residual fatigue in his quads. Mmm, he clearly had a lot of fun last night.

***

_“C’mon,” Mitch implores, running his hands down his bare chest as he lies on the bed, tilting his hips up invitingly. “Mommy needs a good long fuck. Gonna give it to me?”_

_“Oh, I’m happy to fuck you all night,” the blond kneeling between knees responds, licking his lips as his eyes follow Mitch’s hands down his body. He reaches over for the box on Mitch’s nightstand, peering inside. “Or, at least until we run out of condoms.”_

_Shit, really? Mitch could have sworn he brought a decent-sized pack. He’d been hoping for exactly this situation. “How many are there?”_

_The man—Scott, he’d called himself Scott—pulls the strip out of the box with a playful pout. “Only six.”_

_“Six?” Mitch laughs in relief. “There’s six and you think that’ll be what ends the night?”_

_Scott’s pout becomes a sexy, twinkle-eyed smirk. “Let’s find out.”_

***

Mitch sighs and rolls onto his back. Tonight’s family obligation includes Christmas Eve dinner with his sister, her husband, their kids, his parents, and some couple they’ve made good friends with over the last year and their twenty-something son.

“Oh, and I’d forgotten until just now, but their son is gay too,” his mom had said. “Isn’t that a lovely coincidence? Maybe you two will hit it off.”

‘Lovely’ isn’t the word Mitch would have chosen. Or ‘coincidence’, for that matter.

***

_Turns out Scott is even hotter lying under him than he was on the dance floor. And fuck if his cock isn’t perfectly proportional to that giant, attractive frame. Mitch takes a deep breath and slowly sinks onto it, pausing and wiggling to correct the angle and give himself a break about halfway through._

_Scott runs his fingers over Mitch’s thighs and hips, drawing patterns as he patiently waits for Mitch to adjust. Well, maybe not-so-patiently given the way the tendons in his neck are straining and his teeth are digging into his pink bottom lip._

_Mmm, fuck yes. That’s it. Mitch settles down fully onto him and leans forward, nipping at that abused lip with his own. They trade deep, filthy kisses for a few minutes before Mitch lets out a startled groan when a sudden thrust rocks him up and forward. Mitch pulls his lips away and finds mischievous blue eyes and a lopsided smile greeting him._

_Oh, it’s like that, is it?_

_Mitch smirks back and pushes himself upright. He holds his hands out in front of himself and wiggles his fingers until his blond steed reaches up and entwines them in his own. Mitch then leans on those big hands, using them for leverage to support a much more powerful and deeper grind than his legs alone would have been able to sustain. And then Scott’s the one groaning in surprise, his head tilting back involuntarily as he gasps for air. But it’s clearly a good surprise, judging by the way he’s grinning by the second thrust and forcefully fucking up into Mitch by the third._

_Oh yeah. It’s like that._

***

Mitch is really happy he got thoroughly— _thoroughly_ —fucked last night. This way, when his mom is looking at him hopefully, he won’t cave and invite Eugene or Herbert or whoever-the-fuck out for coffee after dinner, which will risk Mitch inviting him back to his room and into bed just because he’s bored, lonely, and thirsty. Which means he’ll avoid the inevitably disappointing night, the awkward morning after, and then crushing his parents’ dreams of pulling off a Christmas miracle by finding him a future fucking husband.

***

_“You live in the Metroplex?” Mitch asks, laying on a broad chest and running his fingers through the light patch of hair he finds there._

_“Not anymore,” his pillow answers. “Just visiting family for the holidays.”_

_“Me too.”_

_A hand smooths down Mitch’s back. “Yet you’re staying in a hotel?”_

_“Not enough space for comfort at my parents’ place now that my sister has a husband and kids.” Mitch points towards the desk where there’s a scattering of Crayola markers and construction paper. “I did have my niece and nephew over for a playdate earlier so Santa could finish shopping for them though.”_

_The blond hums, fingers circling in the small of Mitch’s back. “I should keep this in mind for next year. I’m the only one home this time so there’s plenty of room, but last year I was stuck on a couch that wasn’t anywhere near long enough for me and my nephew woke everyone up every three hours on the dot. I adore him, but that kid can really scream.”_

_Mitch nods in sympathy. “I’d thought it would be weird staying here while they’re all there, but the ability to sleep without tiny people crawling into my bed at o-dark-thirty is a serious advantage.”_

_“Any other advantages?” Mitch can hear a smile mixed in with the blatant innuendo._

_“Oh,” Mitch says, suddenly realizing his lips are less than an inch from a perfectly delicious-looking nipple and leaning towards it. “I can think of a few.”_

***

Mitch eventually works up to opening his eyes. Ow. The light is bright and his head certainly doesn’t feel fantastic, although he honestly thinks most of the problem is a lack of sleep. He blinks blearily up at the ceiling, admiring the ripple pattern in the plaster he’d thought was bizarre when he’d checked in but is quite fond of now.

***

_His left leg is propped on a broad shoulder and his right knee is clasped around a trim waist. A thick cock is sliding in and out of him, drawing a breathy grunt from him with every push. He’s torn between closing his eyes to better savor how good everything feels and keeping them open to better appreciate the view staring back at him. He grits his teeth and chooses the latter—because seriously why wouldn’t he?—whimpering and tossing his head as his prostate is grazed perfectly again._

_The ripple pattern on the ceiling wavers in the background with every rock of Mitch’s body up the bed. He’s not sure how much of the effect is because he’s still a little drunk and how much is just because he’s saturated in some truly exquisite sex, but it’s aesthetically appealing either way._

_“Fuck,” says Mitch’s other current aesthetic, drawing his attention back to those carved features and bright blue eyes. “You’re so beautiful. God, I want to fuck you forever.”_

_Mitch watches him turn his head to trace his lips up the inside of Mitch’s calf. “So do it, Daddy. Make me feel it.”_

_The lips freeze just below Mitch’s ankle and by the time they’re fully facing him a pink tongue is darting out to wet them, followed by teeth dragging across the bottom one. “You want to feel it?”_

_Mitch smirks and nods. Hell yes. “C’mon. Give it to me.”_

_Scott smirks back, shrugging Mitch’s leg off his shoulder and catching it in the crook of his elbow. Then he’s pulling himself more fully over him, bending until Mitch is almost folded in half, whining at the stretch. It’s not painful, but it’s certainly intense. And so, so good._

_And then Scott’s doubling down his thrusting efforts and his mouth is meeting Mitch’s and soon the only thing Mitch is capable of is whimpering into a harsh kiss._

***

After another moment, Mitch rolls over towards the nightstand, grunting when he can feel the pull down the back of his left thigh. He’s confused to find a glass of water and the travel pack of painkillers from his toiletry bag sitting on his nightstand, but then smiles with fondness.

***

_“You going to feel okay in the morning?” Scott asks, fingers caressing and massaging the back of Mitch’s legs._

_Mitch himself is a barely functional puddle of goo sprawled in the middle of the bed. “Mmm, I’ll be fine.” He stares up at the ceiling for a long moment, noting the way the ripples are still, well, rippling. “Maybe a bit of a headache, but I’ve got ibuprofen for that.”_

_Scott huffs a soft laugh.  “C’mon, let’s get you a shower. It’ll help with any soreness and at very least you’ll feel better if you’re not coated in dried lube and come when you wake up.”_

_“Not necessarily,” Mitch replies, turning his head to smirk at his bed partner. “Sometimes that’s just what a girl’s in the mood for.”_

_Scott blinks and then swallows heavily. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again before he blurts: “So hey, I think I might be in love with you.”_

_Mitch throws his head back and laughs, grinning even wider when Scott joins in. It doesn’t take long before they’re both in tears, howling over basically nothing and enjoying every second of it._

***

Mitch doesn’t want to get up. He turns to look at the clock on the other nightstand and groans. He’s not running late yet, but he really can’t afford to stay in bed much longer before he needs to be heading over to see his family. He should have made more of an effort to get more sleep last night, but he can’t make himself regret it.

***

_Mitch moans at the warmth and the wet and the pleasantness of the whole world at the current moment. He threads his fingers through water-darkened hair that’s plastered to its owner’s forehead, tugging in time with the bobbing of the head beneath it. His other hand is braced against the shower wall and it, along with the hands spread wide across both globes of his ass, are the only reason he’s still standing. Hot water is cascading down his back, filling the room with a cloud of billowing steam. The entire experience is pure bliss._

_He tries to hold his hips still, but eventually he can’t help himself and they start to rock of their own accord. Scott doesn’t seem to mind, humming his approval and encouragement._

_“Jesus,” Mitch breathes, mesmerized by the view of a dripping wet Scott, cheeks flushed from the heat, staring up at him from his knees with his mouth stretched wide around Mitch’s cock. Scott’s tongue swipes across Mitch’s head and dips into his slit, and Mitch’s hand tightens into a fist in his hair. Scott moans at the sensation and it vibrates deliciously down Mitch’s dick._

_“God, so good. You’re so good at this,” Mitch babbles helplessly, unable to hold it back any more. “Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous. Look at you.”_

_Scott’s eyes flutter closed at the praise, drops of water clinging to his long, blond eyelashes. His head tilts back and Mitch’s cock slides even deeper._

***

Mitch eventually drags himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He pops two tablets out of the little travel pack and downs them with half the glass of water. He’s not quite as awake as he thought though, because as he places the glass back down he misjudges where the tabletop is and drops it the last inch. Naturally it falls over and spills, missing the pack of remaining pills but drenching whatever markered masterpiece his niece has left for him on the nightstand that he hadn’t previously noticed. He winces; it’s already smeared to hell. He’ll clean it up after his shower. If she mentions it, he’ll just have to confess that he accidentally ruined it and hope for kindergartener forgiveness.

***

_Mitch is bundled up with a big white towel draped over his head and shoulders and around his torso. He hums contentedly as big hands smooth all over him. They’re theoretically drying him off, but he’s pretty sure Scott just wants an excuse to keep touching him. A particularly pleasant stroke down his back has him moaning in bliss and he opens his eyes, finding blue ones staring down at him._

_Scott smiles as they make eye contact. “You okay?”_

_“Never better.” Mitch thinks that may even be true. It’s certainly one of the best nights in recent memory. He glances down Scott’s naked body—mmm, water droplets in all the right places—to find him as hard as expected. Sucking Mitch off clearly worked for him. “You going to fuck me again?”_

_Scott pauses his ministrations. “I figured you’d be too sore?”_

_“Mmm, not really.” Mitch turns and braces himself over the bathroom counter, shimmying a bit as he bends. He peeks out from under his makeshift terrycloth hood and bats his eyelashes. The bottom edge of his towel is just skimming the bottom of his ass and he watches Scott’s gaze follow the line before snapping up to meet his eyes again. “I mean, I can blow you if you’d prefer…”_

_“No,” comes the strangled response. “This is good. Really good. Perfect, even. I’ll just, uh, I’ll be right back.”_

_He disappears out of the bathroom and Mitch is confused for about two and a half seconds until he triumphantly returns with the remaining condoms and lube._

_Well then. Merry Christmas to Mitch._

***

Mitch makes his way into the bathroom and digs for his toothbrush. He turns around and starts the shower to warm it up before continuing to brush his teeth. He can’t help but smile when the building steam reveals the perfectly obvious handprint halfway up the mirror.

***

_The edge of the counter is digging into the front of Mitch’s thighs. One palm is braced against the mirror, holding him upright. He’s high on his toes, shoved even higher with every powerful thrust from the giant behind him. His towel has fallen most of the way off; it’s now draped loosely over only one shoulder leaving him naked to the glass. The only reason it’s still on at all is that it’s sandwiched between his back and Scott’s chest, pressed close and then closer with every drive of those hips and tug of the strong arms around him._

_Mitch is only half hard and there’s no way he’s going to come again, much as he’d love to. But that cock dragging across his prostate is still fucking fantastic and Mitch is torn between watching Scott’s muscles flexing in the mirror as he fucks him like it’s his job, and staring into his own blown out, glazed eyes as he takes it._

***

The shower feels fantastic, soothing over-exerted muscles as it pulses over him. God bless fancy hotel showerheads and the water pressure that comes with them. He takes his time shampooing his hair and washing the remains of the night before off his body. Soon he’s humming contentedly and eventually full out singing. It’s probably blasphemous to be belting variations on O Holy Night after spending said night getting fucked into next week by a virtual stranger, but he really couldn’t care less.

***

_Mitch has no idea how long he’s been dozing, comfortable and warm in Scott’s arms, but eventually Scott sighs deeply. “I have to go.”_

_Mitch groans in displeasure as his bed warmer wiggles out from under him. “Stay.”_

_“I’d love to.” Gentle fingers smooth through his hair. “Fuck, I’d love to but my family is expecting me. I’m supposed to go out for breakfast with them.”_

_Mitch scrunches up his nose, still more than half asleep. “Fuck breakfast, it’s the middle of the night.”_

_There’s another sigh, this one even deeper than the first. “It’s almost seven, actually. I need to get home and change, probably answer some awkward questions about where I’ve been like I’m fifteen again, and then hope to god there’s time for a nap after breakfast or the rest of today is going to suck.”_

_Mitch only manages to follow about half of that. “S’okay,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious he’s supposed to respond. “You’re really good at sucking.”_

_That gets a chuckle. “Thank you.” There’s a long pause. Maybe more than a pause; Mitch might have fallen asleep for a while. Finally, Scott’s fingers are running through his hair again, this time continuing down his jaw and across his cheekbone. “I’d really like to see you again. Maybe we could try a date after Christmas or next time we’re both in town? Get to know each other better outside the bedroom?”_

_“Mmm, that’d be nice,” Mitch agrees sleepily. “Wait, can we still get to know each other better inside the bedroom, too? ‘Cause imma need me some more of that.”_

_Scott huffs a laugh and then presses a soft kiss to Mitch’s lips and then his forehead. “You’re hilarious and so fucking out of it. I’m going to write this plan down and leave you my number. Call or text me if it still sounds good when you’re actually awake.”_

_“Mmmkay,” Mitch agrees again. Of course it’ll still sound good._

***

Mitch is halfway done drying himself when he realizes Scott _didn’t_ leave his number. He’s thoroughly disappointed and well on his way to pissed off when he has a sudden horrible thought.

“Oh, fuck.” He rushes out of the bathroom and over to the nightstand, wincing in earnest when he realizes he’s correct. The waterlogged art he’d thought was his niece’s isn’t art at all, but the sad remains of a now almost entirely unintelligible note from Scott.

“No. Nononono.”

He rushes it back into the bathroom and uses the blow dryer in the hopes of improving things but it doesn’t help. Mitch wants to cry, especially when he makes out a 310 area code, the only part of the phone number that’s still remotely legible. Scott, currently in Texas visiting his family for Christmas, is obviously from fucking LA. Where Mitch also fucking lives. Where they could have gone on that promised date anytime they wished and then hopefully had few hundred more.

“Fucking fuckity _fuck_!”

Mitch is still staring at the paper, hoping to somehow re-distribute the Crayola ink into its original layout with the powers of his non-existent mind, when his phone buzzes with a text from his mother. He’s officially late. Which is just…great. It’s great. Everything’s fucking great.

It’s not like Mitch just lost his chance to date a big, handsome, kind, funny, generous sex god or anything.

Maybe Mitch will have that cry after all.

***

His mom gives him an exasperated look as she opens the door. “They’re going to be here any minute. You were supposed to get here an hour ago.”

He kisses her cheek on his way past. “I’m fine, Mom. Thanks for asking. Merry Christmas.”

He heads for the living room and finds his dad along with Jessa, Jared, and the rug rats. He smiles and returns the “Unca Mitz!” hugs and general happiness and then plunks himself into the spare armchair, realizes slightly too late that he should have done so more carefully to avoid wincing.

“You okay, son?” his father asks.

Mitch nods and waves away his concern. “I’m fine. Just overdid it dancing last night. Haven’t been out like that in a while.”

His dad nods and accepts the explanation, but Jessa squints at him. “Dancing, huh?”

“Yes, Jessa,” he replies, deadpan. “Dancing. I went to a dance club last night. Where I _danced_.”

She looks like she’s working up to say something else, probably something he’ll have to tax himself to respond to without cussing, but that’s when the doorbell rings.

His mother’s overly enthusiastic greeting has him realizing he’s going to need some wine to get through this situation, so he smirks at his sister and then gets up and heads for the kitchen.

He’s just finished pouring himself a considerably generous glass of Chardonnay when his mom enters the kitchen behind him.

“Oh, here he is,” she’s saying, still with a slightly manic let’s-be-nice-to-the-guests tone. “Mitch, I’d like you to meet Connie and Rick’s son. He’s a handsome one!”

Mitch rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of wine to fortify himself for the inevitably horrible evening before caving and turning around. Whereupon his brain stutters to a halt.

Oh. Huh. Well, it’s not like his mom is _wrong_.

“Scott,” is what he says, when he manages to say anything at all. “Thank _fuck_.”

“Mitch,” Scott replies, a bemused smile on his face. “Nice to see you again.”

His mom is looking curiously back and forth between them. “You two know each other? Connie,” she calls out into the living room. “They already know each other.”

“Darn it,” says a tall blonde woman as she enters the kitchen. “I thought for sure this would work out.”

“No,” Mitch says, still staring at Scott. “We met last night. Scott gave me his number, but I stupidly lost it. This is…” God, this is going to hurt to say. “This is a lovely coincidence.”

***

Dinner is, of course, much better than Mitch anticipated. The Hoyings seem like a nice couple and Mitch is already more than fond of Scott. Jessa’s a bit of a nightmare; she’s apparently put two and two together to get Mitch-and-Scott-fucked-last-night, which okay _accurate_ , but still annoying. She thankfully won’t discuss it in front of the kids and even after they’ve gone to bed she has to be careful or risk bringing every scrap of retribution Mitch has ever contemplated down upon her head for informing the parents. Still, it doesn’t stop her from making comments that are pointed enough to have poor Scott blushing adorably and stammering behind his hand and no. Just, no. It’s way too early in their not-even-established-as-a-relationship relationship to have to deal with this familial bullshit.

“Wow,” Mitch says, about three seconds after he puts down his dessert fork. “That was delicious. This has been great. I’m in desperate need of Starbucks, but I think they close early tonight. Scott, you coming?”

“Apparently soon,” says Jessa. Jared just closes his eyes and sighs. Mitch often wonders what the hell he was thinking marrying into this family.

Scott drops his fork onto his plate, despite just having helped himself to seconds. “Sounds great. Mom, Dad, I’ll see you at home? Dinner was excellent, Nel, Mike, thank you. Nice to meet you, Jared …Jessa.”

It’s the least smooth exit Mitch has ever made, and he doesn’t even hate himself for it because he’s got the man he thought he’d let slip through his fingers following him out the door.

“Are we actually going to Starbucks?” Scott asks as they make their way to the sidewalk.

Mitch had the Uber requested before they’d even put on their coats. “I figured we would, if that’s okay? I could use the caffeine and you wanted to try a real date. Assuming my sister hasn’t scared you off entirely, I mean.”

“Not yet,” Scott says, looking for a moment like he’s actually contemplating the point. Then he smirks. “There’s one just up the block from your hotel. A Starbucks, I mean.”

Mitch can’t hold back the smile. “Already counting on me inviting you back to my hotel after our date? Pretty big assumption there, Hoying.”

“Not really,” Scott says. “I figure I still need to help you finish the pack. Three left by my count?”

What is he—? Oh. The condom pack. Okay, yes, that sounds great. Fantastic even. Except… “Um, I’m not sure I’m up for another three rounds tonight.”

“You’re not up for it or you’re not up for me up it?”

Mitch rolls his eyes. That was terrible. Accurate, but terrible. “What do you think?”

The Uber pulls up and Scott steps forward, holding the door open like the gentleman he is. “I think I don’t have to be the one wearing all three of them this time.”

Mitch freezes, halfway into the car, and attempts to process this. A quick glance up at Scott and his knowing smirk confirms he means it.

Well then. Merry Christmas to Mitch indeed.

***

**Thoughts?**


End file.
